“I know few love me better than yourself, Jasper:  Chingachgook is perhaps, now, the only creatur’ of whom I can say that.  Well, there’s no use in putting it off any longer; it must be done, and may as well be done at once; so, Jasper, lead the way, and I’ll endivor to look upon her sweet countenance once more.”

Jasper did lead the way, and they were soon in the presence of Mabel.  The latter met her late suitor with a bright blush, and her limbs trembled so, she could hardly stand; still her manner was affectionate and frank.  During the hour of Pathfinder’s visit (for it lasted no longer, though he ate in the dwelling of his friends), one who was expert in tracing the working of the human mind might have seen a faithful index to the feelings of Mabel in her manner to Pathfinder and her husband.  With the latter she still had a little of the reserve that usually accompanies young wedlock; but the tones of her voice were kinder even than common; the glance of her eye was tender, and she seldom looked at him without the glow that tinged her cheeks betraying the existence of feelings that habit and time had not yet soothed into absolute tranquillity.  With Pathfinder, all was earnest, sincere, even anxious; but the tones never trembled, the eye never fell; and if the cheek flushed, it was with the emotions that are connected with concern.

At length the moment came when Pathfinder must go his way.  Chingachgook had already abandoned the canoes, and was posted on the margin of the woods, where a path led into the forest.  Here he calmly waited to be joined by his friend.  As soon as the latter was aware of this fact, he rose in a solemn manner and took his leave.

“I’ve sometimes thought that my own fate has been a little hard,” he said; “but that of this woman, Mabel, has shamed me into reason.”

“June remains, and lives with me,” eagerly interrupted our heroine.

“So I comprehend it.  If anybody can bring her back from her grief, and make her wish to live, you can do it, Mabel; though I’ve misgivings about even your success.  The poor creatur’ is without a tribe, as well as without a husband, and it’s not easy to reconcile the feelings to both losses.  Ah’s me! —­ what have I to do with other people’s miseries and marriages, as if I hadn’t affliction enough of my own?  Don’t speak to me, Mabel, —­ don’t speak to me, Jasper, —­ let me go my way in peace, and like a man.  I’ve seen your happiness, and that is a great deal, and I shall be able to bear my own sorrow all the better for it.  No, — I’ll never kiss you ag’in, Mabel, I’ll never kiss you ag’in.  Here’s my hand, Jasper, —­ squeeze it, boy, squeeze it; no fear of its giving way, for it’s the hand of a man; —­ and now, Mabel, do you take it, —­ nay, you must not do this,” — preventing Mabel from kissing it and bathing it in her tears, —­ “you must not do this —­ "

“Pathfinder,” asked Mabel, “when shall we see you again?”